


HLD Shorts

by SableGear0



Category: Hyper Light Drifter
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Ficlet Collection, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 09:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21455671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SableGear0/pseuds/SableGear0
Summary: A small collection of Hyper Light Drifter shorts exploring some emotional scenes between the Drifter and Guardian. (May update with additional shorts later.)===Content warning for some implied suicidal thoughts in Part 1.There are two versions of Part 2 (because I couldn't decide which I liked better).Cross-posted from my DeviantArt: SableGear
Relationships: The Drifter/Guardian (Hyper Light Drifter)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	1. Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Guardian's guest returns home from an ordeal in the Midnight Woods, seeking safety and comfort from the things he witnessed.

The grind of the door opening caught him off guard. He’d forgotten someone else had access to his house. The Guardian turned to find the stranger he’d taken in, that Drifter, stalled in the doorway, looking startled that he wasn’t alone. There was a pause, and he began to turn away to the door before the Guardian called to him.

“It’s alright.”

The Drifter stopped, looked back at him.

“You can stay, you know.” It was impolite to laugh but he couldn’t hide his smile. His guest’s nervous manner was completely unfounded. Though it was true they’d hardly spoken to one another. The Drifter, in fact, had never spoken at all.

He gestured to the table and chairs, “Have a seat. I just put a kettle on, I was going to make tea. Would you like some?”

A pause, and a single grateful nod. The Drifter approached and sat, hunched and head bowed, eyes closed. He looked exhausted up close. Dusty. A magenta leaf was snagged in one of the folds of his cowl, he either hadn’t noticed it or didn’t care. He must have come from the woods.

The Midnight Woods. And the Canyon.

Had he seen...?

The kettle was just beginning to whine when he took it off the heat. He glanced over his shoulder at his guest a few times while he measured loose leaves and water into a teapot, “I realize I neglected to introduce myself before. People call me ‘the Guardian,’ but my real name is Halvard.”

No response. The Drifter’s eyes were open at least. He did look tired. His eyes –those all-black eyes, like a bird’s– were sunken and distant under the shadow of his helmet.

“How do you take your tea?”

A slow, stilted shrug.

“Well, you have a few minutes to think about it,” Halvard set the teapot down on the table with a pair of mugs. “If you want anything just let me know.” Was that rude? “Or, help yourself, if you prefer,” he amended, indicating his cupboards with a loose wave and hoping he hadn’t just insulted his guest.

He sat down across from the Drifter but stayed turned aside, so his guest didn’t feel crowded. He was eerily still. Or maybe, was he trembling? It was impossible to tell, his heavy cape hid everything below his neck, his face was still covered. Were those small hoarse noises breaths, or expressions of discomfort, or something else that wasn’t even coming from the Drifter?

Halvard did his best to sound relaxed, friendly, “You know, I’m glad you came back. And I’m glad to see you’re in one piece. I must admit I’d get a little worried every time we split up. But I’m happy you feel safe coming back here. I’m sorry if I startled you.”

His strange eyes made it difficult to be sure where he was looking, but it seemed to Halvard he had the Drifter’s attention. He had lifted his head a bit, perhaps just enough to see under the brim of his helmet.

“Oh, hey, you’ve got...” Halvard reached out, meaning to use the lighter moment to pluck that leaf from the Drifter’s cape. One hand –gloved in black– emerged from the gap in his cape to catch the Guardian’s wrist. An automatic motion, a surprisingly firm grip. Halvard froze and the Drifter released him, tilted his head just enough to see what his host had been aiming for, and picked the jagged piece of plant from the fabric. He turned it over once, then set it aside on the tabletop, hand retreating under his cape. He didn’t like to be touched.

“Sorry about that,” Halvard smiled at his guest, reached for the mugs and began to pour tea for the both of them. “I hope you don’t think me too forward for what I did before, when we first met. I wanted to help, and bringing you back here was the easiest thing I could think of. I didn’t mean it to be stressful or invasive for you, if it was.” He slid a mug towards the Drifter, “Did you want anything with this or were you just going to take it black?”

Tentative hands snaked out from the gap in the Drifter’s cape to clasp the mug and slide it towards himself. One hand reached up to his face and pulled down the scarf that covered it to just below his chin, revealing a face apparently absent a nose. He held the mug with both hands again, fingers in neat alternation, ignorant of the heat, lifting it close to his face. Close enough for the steam his breath stirred up to fog the metal front of his helmet.

They drank in silence. Halvard tolerated the bitterness of the black tea. Somehow it felt rude to sweeten his own drink when his guest had refused any additives. The Drifter didn’t seem to care. He sipped at his mug just as slowly as his posture loosened, until he was sitting back, arms and drink resting on the tabletop. Still he had that distant, drained look to him, much clearer now that Halvard could see his face.

The Guardian leaned forward to pick up the teapot. Not seeing any refusal to his motions, he topped off his guest’s mug, then started pouring his own.

“We were soldiers...” The faint, raspy voice made Halvard look up. The Drifter was looking down into his tea. He watched his guest’s grip on his mug tighten before he spoke again in a whisper, “I knew. But...it never meant anything before. I never thought I’d see it...The place we fought.”

The Drifter lifted his mug to his lips for a mouthful. His hands shook when they left the tabletop. “My kind...we’re always...scattered.” He set his drink down, pressing it to the table to fight his trembling, “I’ve never seen so many anywhere else...Not in one place.”

“I- I’m sorry,” Halvard put the teapot aside, unsure what to do with his hands, “I would have warned you, but I figured you’d already passed the canyon by the time we met up. I should have said something. I’d been there before, but it didn’t even occur to me you might...I’m so sorry.”

The Drifter’s voice was a dry rasp. “I wanted...I wondered if I could break them free. Even just one. To save them from being trapped like that forever. But then I realized...”

He let go of his drink, trying to press his palms flat to the table. But his fingers curled as he spoke, claws digging, dragging furrows into the wooden table.

“It’d be the cruellest thing I could do to them. More than leaving them there. They wouldn’t recognize the world they’d wake up in. Wouldn’t know why people fear them, hate them so much. Where their leaders went. Why I don’t remember... Would _they_ remember...? Would they have the same thoughts I did...?” His voice was tightening, dark eyes squinting past a brim of tears, “Would they hate me for it...? For waking them...?”

He shut his eyes tight, tears spilling over. He bared his teeth just for an instant; grief, frustration in a pointed grimace that faded as quickly as it came. His hands relaxed, loosing claws from the tabletop. The fire went out of his voice.

“There was one...in an access, past the beacon, behind the ruins. All alone at the base of a stairway. I wanted...I almost wanted to... He was bleeding out...He looked so afraid. All alone...”

Halvard slid a hand across the table, reaching out to him, “Hey...”

“I didn’t want him to be alone... I’d been stuck before, just for a few seconds, in the crystal. I thought...what if I... just...I- I don’t want him to be alone. _I _don’t want to be alone–!”

“_Hey!_” Halvard seized the Drifter’s wrist, meeting his startled, tearful gaze. He closed his other hand over the Drifter’s, voice softening, though he had to call the Drifter’s attention back up, “Hey, look at me. And listen: You’re not alone. Okay?” He gave a firm, gentle squeeze to the trembling hand in his grasp, “You’re not alone. I’m here. I’m here for you, I’ll help however I can...Alright...?”

The Drifter shut his eyes, ducked his head down again, trying to retreat into himself. Trying, though not very hard, to tug his hand back. “You...don’t hate me...”

“Of course not. Why would I?”

“I’m...”

“I don’t care what you are.” His nonchalant reply received a pained, bitter look. “Really. I don’t. I care _how_ you are.” Halvard released the Drifter’s hand, leaning over the table to touch his upper arm instead, “And you’re not well. Neither am I. We’re both ill. And I know where your head’s at. Trust me, I’ve been there myself. Will you let me help?”

The Drifter lifted a hand, hesitating before touching the hand Halvard had on his arm, then lifting it higher to rub the tears from his face. At length he gave up, dropping his hand back to the table. The Guardian let go of his arm.

“Halvard...” the name came out like a mournful sigh, “I’m so tired.”

It was beyond physical, he knew. “Me too. Go lay down for a while, alright?”

“Will you...?”

“I’ll be here when you wake up this time. I promise.”


	2. Snow (Platonic Version)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Drifter and Guardian make camp on the Winding Ridge and share a meal and some personal conversation.
> 
> (Platonic version of the "Snow" short. See next chapter for the Squishy Version.)

Snow. More familiar than he’d care to admit, but it had been decades since he’d seen this much of it. Thick blowing snow veiled the distant peaks, clouding even near things from view when the wind picked up. The drifts didn’t bother him, and truly neither did the cold – his light weight and thick cape saw to that – but his partner was struggling with the terrain. The Guardian’s heavy armour weighed him down, forcing him to trudge through snow the Drifter easily walked overtop.

The Drifter glanced upslope. The peak, and the remains of the Titan clinging to it, were still the better part of a day’s hike away. And night was falling. He pulled his cape closer around himself and looked back. Halvard was bulling his way through a drift to crest the ridge and stand alongside him, his bright pink cape coated in whiteness.

“What do you think?” Halvard’s heavy breath rose in pale clouds from the front slit of his helmet. For an answer the Drifter nodded towards the setting sun. The Guardian nodded back, “We’ll have to camp for the night. Find any good spots when you were scouting ahead?”

Another nod, and a gesture; across a narrow, broken land-bridge and up a crumbling flight of stairs was a collection of ruined buildings around a kind of courtyard, long deserted. It was an ideal spot, save for the pack of scavengers he knew was lurking there. The Drifter drew his sword as a warning, Halvard following suit, and the two pressed forward.

An echoing howl greeted them. Wolves on the prowl. A pack of three staggered their attack by rushing in, rather unwisely, one at a time. The Drifter made short work of the first one with two well-placed pistol shots. Halvard baited the second in close, letting the beast impale itself on his sword when it leapt at him, flinging its carcass aside with ease. The third stalled, circling, but the Guardian had no patience to let it make a decision. A single shot from a heavy rifle downed the scavenger on the spot.

Halvard grumbled to himself as he dragged the animals into a pile away from the buildings. “Scraggly buggers aren’t even worth skinning.” At his partner’s silent, concerned look, he gestured to the inaccessible ridges surrounding them, “I know that was maybe a bit cruel, but I didn’t want the last one getting away and coming back with more friends.”

The Drifter answered with only a long, slow blink. Solemn but satisfied.

The building he’d selected was perfect for a campsite: large enough to accommodate the both of them with space for a fire, some ruined furniture dry enough to be used for fuel, a few gaps in the brick where the walls met the still-intact roof – at first glance a flaw until one took into account the fire-smoke needed somewhere to go – and the remains of a door large enough to safely barricade the entrance.

Halvard stood in the door, arms folded, examining the space while the Drifter cleared away the less useful debris. “I’m torn...” His partner looked up, Halvard set his hands on his hips, “I don’t know whether to call you talented or lucky.”

The Drifter smiled under his scarf but shook his head. Neither, he was neither, but lacked the heart to say it out loud. Halvard didn’t persist in teasing him. Instead he took his wordless cue and began helping, breaking up the larger bits of wood into more manageable pieces and shoving the unusable junk to the margins of the room.

Darkness fell across their camp; a neighbouring peak blocking the light before the sun was entirely gone from the sky. Before half the hour had passed, the sky blackened, and they had a fire built and burning. Halvard dragged the remnants of the door into place while the Drifter fiddled with some larger pieces of scrap.

“What are you working on over there?”

He stepped aside to reveal a makeshift frame of some sort. Before Halvard could ask him to elaborate, the Drifter shed his cape, draping it over the frame and shifting the whole thing into place between the door and the fire.

“Dry out and block some of the light. Clever.” Halvard undid his cape and gave it a rough shake before propping it up to dry. He brushed past the Drifter to sit on the far side of the fire, gesturing for his partner to join him. “I get the feeling you’ve done this before.”

The Drifter sat cross-legged a polite distance away, facing the fire. He was no stranger to alpine camping, it was true. All this was regrettably familiar. The less-than-pleasant reverie must have shown on his face, no longer covered by scarf and cowl.

Halvard allowed him a few minutes of quiet, busying himself with unstrapping his armour before he spoke up. “What’s on your mind?”

“I used to live in a place like this...” Talking was still a bit of a struggle, his voice permanently damaged from years of combatting his illness. His words always came out in a hoarse near-whisper. “But my only clear memories are of leaving.”

That was enough, right? He left a sizeable pause before daring to glance over at Halvard. The Guardian was sitting forward with a patient, attentive look. He had been this whole time.

The Drifter looked away, “You don’t...really want to hear this, do you?”

Did he?

“Only if you’re willing to share. I won’t push you.”

The Drifter took a deep breath and let gravity press the air out of him. A tension he had been unaware of before unclenched in his chest. What a saint. How on earth was this man content to be so patient with him? He heard Halvard shifting and looked over again; he was leaning to one side, digging through his travelling pack. He was...

Human. It just occurred to him now, looking at Halvard without his armour and helmet despite having seen him this way before, that his traveling companion was a human. He’d assumed as much from the start, but at the same time it came as a minor revelation. It was a human that had been so kind to him. A human, whose very name meant ‘guardian,’ that had taken him into his home, offered him care and comfort on trust alone.

Curious.

“Hey, you hungry?”

“Hm? Uh, yeah...”

“Here,” Halvard slid something over to his side of the fire on a flat piece of brick, a bun a bit larger than his fist, “They froze on the way here, so it’ll need a few minutes to thaw and toast up. I brought a bunch, so don’t be shy if you want seconds.”

“Thanks...” Without thinking he slid a hand under the cheek-plate of his helmet, about to slip it off when he stalled, realizing he wasn’t alone.

He didn’t look in Halvard’s direction, but heard the gentle “Go ahead,” tinged with a hint of a laugh. A good-natured laugh. He seemed to think it was funny the Drifter was so nervous about uncovering himself; he didn’t understand the years of cruelty and threats he’d endured just for being what he was.

Still, the Drifter slipped off his helmet, set it aside. A strand of coarse white hair fell in front of his face. He tucked it behind one high-pointed ear, then stretched out to lay on the stone floor; on his side facing the fire, one arm folded under his head. He felt like a housecat sprawled in front of a hearth. Watching the hues of orange and red dance behind the dark scales of burning wood, he spoke as if to no one.

“There are a lot of things I don’t remember about myself. My first clear memory is of a place like this, a logging camp in the mountains. Somehow I’d lived there for years in silence, not really knowing who I was. The earliest day I remember was the first time I’d ever spoken, ever had a sense of myself as being _me_. The day after...I was forced to leave when my campmates found out something about me that even I didn’t know.”

He paused, waiting for Halvard to reply, but received only respectful silence.

“Our...foreman, I guess? Was attacked while we were in the field. The bandits that did it tried to take over the camp. But I took it back. All on my own. With just a hunting rifle, a hatchet, and a knife.” He rolled over onto his back, hands folded on his middle. “My campmates were terrified. Apparently I had military training on a level none of them had ever seen before. I didn’t even know, it just came naturally to me. They said they didn’t feel safe with me around, so I had to leave, even though it was winter.”

“They turned you out into this kind of weather?”

“I wasn’t alone, thankfully. One of my campmates came with me. But...yes.”

“That...explains a lot, actually.”

“I guess what I want to say is,” the Drifter rolled onto his side to face the fire again, “I’m more used to people being...less than kind...So... Thank-you. For everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

Plain. Earnest. Maybe the slightest bit self-satisfied, but totally genuine. This man... He was something else.

“Oh, hey– watch out!” Halvard made a sudden move towards the fire – the Drifter noticed it too, the scent of something beginning to burn – to rescue his meal. He scooped the Drifter’s bun away from the flames, tossing it to his partner, who juggled the hot item for a second before finding a comfortable grip. Halvard laughed, and the Drifter found himself grinning. Pointed teeth and all.

He sat up, cross-legged again. “Nice save.”

“Can’t have them burning, I want you to try one of these. Made them myself.”

The Drifter bit the fingertips of one of his gloves to pull it off, hesitated, then remembered his present company and removed them both without fear. He could show his claws. Halvard wouldn’t care.

He was in the process of wondering what was so special about a simple bun when he bit into it and found its center. It was filled with...gravy? No, stew. A rich, meaty stew, heavily spiced. It was...so...

“You alright over there?”

“_Hm?_” He had his mouth full, almost afraid to even chew. He nodded instead, “Mm- mhm...”

“It’s not spicy, is it?”

The Drifter shook his head, swallowed his mouthful.

“Are you...” Halvard leaned closer, the Drifter turned away. “Tearing up over there?”

He took another hasty bite, trying a muffled “No” around his food. A nervous lie.

“I didn’t think they were _that_ good,” Halvard chuckled, but his tone turned serious when the Drifter hunched up his shoulders as if to hide. “Hey...it’s okay...”

Halvard reached out to touch him; a full palm pressed to the spot between his shoulders made him flinch. The Guardian’s hand traced slow, gentle circles on his back. “Hey now... You’re alright...You don’t have to say anything, you just enjoy that, okay?”

The Drifter’s posture relaxed.

“Want me to toast you another one?”

He shook his head. The two of them finished their modest meal in silence. At length the Drifter moved to sit closer at Halvard’s side, though he didn’t meet the Guardian’s gaze.

“Thank-you, Halvard...I...”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Silence again, but for the crackling fire. Halvard shifted and the Drifter could feel the arm he leaned his weight onto close behind him. He was warm. Even with the fire close by, the human was considerably warmer. The Drifter was looking down to the side, examining the bare hand pressed to the stone floor alongside his, when Halvard spoke in a soft rumble.

“Hey...What’s your name?”

“I don’t...really have one...”

“What would you call yourself, then? How do _you_ think of yourself?”

It was not an easy question, though it was one he had pondered before. Many of his kind simply didn’t have names. Those that did often took ones that reflected weather, or colour, things to do with the sky, brightness, or darkness...

“Light.” Simple. Memorable. “No one else calls me that– I’ve never told anyone, but...”

“Light...” Halvard mused over the moniker.

The Drifter leaned away from him, “You think it’s silly–”

“No, I think it suits you. ‘Light the Drifter.’ I like the way it sounds.”

“Thanks.”

He felt an arm around his shoulders. Halvard met his eyes with a smile, “Hello, Light.”

Silly as it seemed, it did feel as if they were seeing one another for the first time. This human – his friend – had pale blue eyes, and such a genuine smile.

“Hello, Halvard.”


	3. Snow (Squishy Version)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Drifter and Guardian make camp on the Winding Ridge and share a meal and something more than personal conversation.
> 
> (Shipping version of the "Snow" short. See previous chapter for the Platonic Version.)

Snow. More familiar than he’d care to admit, but it had been decades since he’d seen this much of it. Thick blowing snow veiled the distant peaks, clouding even near things from view when the wind picked up. The drifts didn’t bother him, and truly neither did the cold – his light weight and thick cape saw to that – but his partner was struggling with the terrain. The Guardian’s heavy armour weighed him down, forcing him to trudge through snow the Drifter easily walked overtop.

The Drifter glanced upslope. The peak, and the remains of the Titan clinging to it, were still the better part of a day’s hike away. And night was falling. He pulled his cape closer around himself and looked back. Halvard was digging himself out of a drift to crest the ridge and stand alongside him, his bright pink cape coated in whiteness.

“What do you think?” Halvard’s heavy breath rose in pale clouds from the front slit of his helmet. For an answer the Drifter nodded towards the setting sun. The Guardian nodded back, “We’ll have to camp for the night. Find anything when you were scouting ahead?”

Another nod, and a gesture; across a narrow, broken land-bridge and up a crumbling flight of stairs was a collection of ruined buildings around a kind of courtyard, long deserted. It was an ideal spot, save for the pack of scavengers he knew was lurking there. The Drifter drew his pistol as a warning, Halvard drew his sword, and the two pressed forward.

An echoing howl greeted them. Wolves on the prowl. A pack of three rushed them in tandem. The Drifter made short work of one with two well-placed pistol shots, sidestepping the second with a flourish of vivid orange and red. Halvard baited the third in close, letting the beast impale itself on his sword when it leapt at him, flinging its carcass aside with ease. The last stalled, circling back around. The Guardian downed the scavenger on the spot with a single shot from a heavy rifle.

Halvard grumbled to himself as he dragged the animals into a pile away from the buildings. “Scraggly buggers aren’t even worth skinning.” At his partner’s silent, concerned look, he gestured to the inaccessible ridges surrounding them, “I know it’s maybe a bit cruel, but I don’t want them coming back with more friends.”

The Drifter answered with only a long, slow blink. Solemn but satisfied.

The building he’d selected was perfect for a campsite: large enough to accommodate the both of them with space for a fire, some ruined furniture dry enough to be used for fuel, a few gaps in the brick where the walls met the still-intact roof – at first glance a flaw until one took into account the fire-smoke needed somewhere to go – and the remains of a door large enough to safely barricade the entrance.

Halvard stood in the door, arms folded, examining the space while the Drifter cleared away the less useful debris. “I’m torn...” His partner looked up, Halvard set his hands on his hips, “I don’t know whether to call you talented or lucky.”

The Drifter smiled under his scarf but shook his head. Neither, he was neither, but lacked the heart to say it out loud. Halvard didn’t persist in teasing him. Instead he took his wordless cue and began helping, breaking up the larger bits of wood into more manageable pieces and shoving the unusable junk to the margins of the room.

Darkness fell across their camp; a neighbouring peak blocking the light before the sun was entirely gone from the sky. Before half the hour had passed, they had a fire built and burning. Halvard dragged the remnants of the door into place.

“Still can’t get over how good a find this was. Might have to cover it up when we leave so we can come back later, if we need.” He looked back to the Drifter, seated cross-legged, warming gloved hands at the fireside, “I get the feeling you’ve done this before.”

He was no stranger to alpine camping, it was true. All this was regrettably familiar. Still covered by his scarf and cowl, his serious downcast eyes must have given away his thoughts.

Halvard sat close by at the fireside, similarly still armoured. He left a moment’s pause, watching the Drifter tuck his hands back into the cover of his cape, “What’s on your mind?”

“I used to live in a place like this...” Talking was still a bit of a struggle, his voice permanently damaged from years of combatting his illness. His words always came out in a hoarse near-whisper. “But my only clear memories are of leaving... Snow always makes me feel lonely, but,” he looked up at Halvard, dark eyes brightening in the firelight, “It’s nice to have someone...close.”

The Guardian held his gaze, lifted a hand. His thumb brushed upper edge of the Drifter’s scarf as if to pull it down, fingertips grazing his jawline. The Drifter leaned away, just a bit. He could feel his face heating up, turning a nervous purple colour. Close...

Halvard lowered his hand, bowed his head to remove his helmet, straightened up with a gentle smile. His voice just as gentle, “You don’t have to hide from me.”

The Drifter paused to examine his partner’s face. Pale blue eyes, intense but kind. Strong, proud features. Warm brown skin. A modest beard. Human.

It just occurred to him now, looking at Halvard without his helmet despite having seen him this way before, that his traveling companion was a human. He’d assumed as much from the start, but at the same time it came as a minor revelation. It was a human that had been so kind to him. A human that had taken him into his home, offered him care and comfort on trust alone.

It was true, he didn’t have to hide. The Drifter pulled down his scarf, doffed his helmet, and ruffled his cape and cowl up over his head, tossing them aside onto a pile of scrap to dry.

Something touched his face when he turned back to Halvard. The Guardian had extended a hand – tentative fingertips brushing a wisp of coarse white hair from his forehead to tuck it behind one of his high pointed ears. The Drifter froze at the contact, eyes wide.

Halvard retreated, shifting his weight to give the Drifter some space. “Sorry...”

“No, it’s...it’s okay...” He repeated the gesture, a coy brush at the same wisp of hair.

Silence. Not the contemplative silence he wanted it to be, a definite awkward silence. Human... What did that mean for him? So many humans were cruel, fickle, so biased and so easily frightened, but conversely quick to trust. Most he had met were strangely driven, and even those that weren’t always seemed to have a passionate streak; one thing that sparked them, or a thing they could not abide.

What was Halvard? Compassionate, certainly. The Guardian gained so little from helping him. Perhaps that was his spark. He did seem unusually attuned to the symptoms of his illness. Trustworthy. He knew he _could_ trust him as far as he needed, but how far _did_ he trust him? How much were his own biases going to stress this bond?

He took a deep breath to clear his head and turned his attention to Halvard. The Guardian had removed his armour over the pause and set his cape aside to dry. He was... Charming... For a human. Though his sense of indebtedness made the distinction between affection and gratitude more blurry than he would have liked. Still... He could trust him. He _did_ trust him.

The Drifter edged to sit closer to his travelling partner, close enough to lean on him if he wanted. He had the Guardian’s attention. “Halvard... I don’t really know how to put this into words...neatly...but, can we...?” He lifted a hand as if to touch his shoulder, or maybe his chest, but hesitated rather than making contact. “I–I’d like to...” Just say the words, he was human, he’d figure this out. “If that’s okay...?”

Halvard took his hand, guided it to his upper chest. He was warm. He felt Halvard’s other hand on his lower back, gentle pressure pulling him closer. Well, the human had figured it out. The Drifter knew _he_ might struggle with this, however.

He found himself rambling, already beginning to shrink under the sustained, attentive eye-contact, “This isn’t something I’d normally do. Being what I am, I mean. We don’t really– at all. I just, I’ve wanted to try but I never really– there was never anyone I trusted enough to... So... You’re...” He pushed his high arm up over Halvard’s shoulder, around his neck, his other arm wound up trapped, palm flat against Halvard’s chest when he propped himself up on his knees to reach. _You’re the first_. He pressed his mouth to the other man’s lips. An assertive, if woefully amateur kiss.

Was that...correct? He meant to pull away, but Halvard held him close still, so they sat side-by-side. He was very warm. And he was smiling. That was either a good sign, or a very bad one.

“So, um...” He looked away from Halvard, into the fire, “How...?”

“Honestly...? Not great.” The Drifter huffed a short sigh, sagged against his side. “Good effort, though,” he leaned in to nuzzle the top of his partner’s head, “I think you just need some practice,” he murmured. No response. One hand lifted the Drifter’s chin to make eye contact again. “Hey...What’s your name?”

The touch was firm but gentle. He understood what his mistake had been; too much of one, not enough of the other. His reply sounded like a realization, “I don’t...really have one...”

“What would you call yourself, then? How do you think of yourself?”

A pause. It wasn’t an easy question. A typical human question, humans had to name everything. But many of his kind simply didn’t have names. Those that did often took ones that reflected weather, or colour, things to do with the sky, brightness, or darkness...

“Light.”

“Light...” Halvard lowered his hand, mused over the moniker.

The Drifter began trying to push away, “You think it’s silly, don’t you?”

“No,” Halvard hugged him back into place, “I think it suits you.”

“Halvard...” Light slid his arms up over the Guardian’s shoulders, sitting up on his knees again; body pressed close against Halvard’s chest, their faces near to touching. “Your name means ‘Guardian’... How did that happen?”

He shrugged one shoulder, “Happy accident?” Another kiss, this one Light approached much more softly. Halvard nodded his approval, but couldn’t hide a look of curiosity, “How did you know that?”

“I’ve travelled a lot. Learned a lot, more than I could ever use...” Halvard cupped his jaw, pulling him in to kiss again, rubbing his forehead against Light’s when they broke off.

“Learned everything but how to love,” the Guardian chuckled.

The Drifter’s eyes snapped open. He shoved Halvard back sharply, teeth bared. He stumbled to his feet, turning away.

“Light– wait, hey!”

“How could you? How– Why would you _say_ that!?”

“What are you–? I was _kidding!_ What’s the matter? ...Light...?”

The Drifter turned slowly, hugging himself, looking sidelong at his partner, “You really don’t know... Do you?”

Halvard shook his head. Light took a deep, heavy breath, turning to face the other man, considering his words. On reflection, he _had_ heard Halvard’s teasing tone. It hadn’t been malicious, but it still stung. Ignorance shouldn’t have been an excuse but in this case, he truly hadn’t known, and he hadn’t meant any ill.

He bit his lip for a moment before speaking, words coming out rough and dry, “One of the things you might hear people say about my kind is that we don’t have feelings. That’s not true. But there are some things... Some things humans and other species feel that we don’t.”

He paused to gauge Halvard’s reaction; solemn and attentive quiet, so he continued. “We don’t feel what I’ve been told is ‘desire.’ We don’t feel ‘romantic’ love. We...can get attached to others, develop affection for them but that’s... That’s as far as it goes. That’s why I...” he shut his eyes tightly, turning his head away, “That’s why I wanted to try being close with you, even just for a bit. I wanted to know what that’s like. You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted enough.”

It was stupid, he knew. How would Halvard feel about being used like this? He should have waited. It wasn’t fair to him.

He could hear rustling, Halvard digging through his pack. Was he going to leave? “Light...?”

The Drifter opened his eyes, glancing timidly towards his partner.

Halvard beckoned him with an open hand and an earnest smile, “Come sit down.”

He obeyed, sinking down awkwardly to sit cross-legged facing the fire. He pressed his hands flat against the ground in front of him, claws gripping the stone in nervous habit. “I’m sorry,” he blurted.

Halvard edged closer to throw a blanket around Light’s shoulders. There was a hint of a laugh to his reply, “What are _you_ apologizing for?”

Light pulled the blanket close around himself, “That I’m not...”

“Come on,” Halvard tugged the fabric, forcing him to lean closer, “I already told you, I don’t care.”

“Well... Thank-you for...indulging me. I was always under the impression humans found my kind...unappealing.”

Halvard let out a thoughtful hum, pulling Light into a firm sideways hug, looking down at him with a critical eye. “To the contrary, I think you’re quite charming.”

Light raised one bald brow, skeptical, “Charming?”

“I thought you might take offense to the word ‘cute.’ I think you’re cute.”

Light blinked, “Oh...”

“And I think you’re brave for reaching out like that, past your limits, to try what you did.”

“Brave...? No... Just foolish. And selfish.”

“Hardly.” Halvard rubbed his back, leaned in to nuzzle his temple. His tone turned soft, almost mischievous, “I don’t know if you’ve guessed by now, but I’d been trying to find a way to address this myself. I wasn’t sure how to approach you, so I’m glad you made the first move.”

He could feel himself blushing. Not from embarrassment, or nervousness. He was just...happy. Relieved, even vindicated. His risk had been rewarded, his trust repaid. He turned to Halvard, looping both arms low around his waist and pressing close, burying his face against the Guardian’s chest. Warm. He felt the rumble of Halvard’s voice when he spoke.

“Light, when all this is over, what are you going to do?”

He leaned away enough to speak, “Honestly, I’ve been trying not to think that far ahead.”

“Well, would you...be averse to staying with me for a while?”

“Not at all...” Halvard was guiding his gaze again with a gentle hand under his chin. “If you’ll have me.”

“Of course...”

Their lips nearly grazed when Light jerked back with a tiny yelp, covering his mouth. Halvard blinked in surprise.

“What is it?”

Light hesitated, stifled a shy giggle, “Um...Beard. Tickled that time...”

“Oh, sorry. Here,” Halvard took his partner’s face in both hands, planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. “How’s that?”

The Drifter sighed, pressed his face into the Guardian’s chest again. “Better,” he mumbled.


End file.
